


minus the mistletoe

by andsocanshe



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andsocanshe/pseuds/andsocanshe
Summary: “You know... it’s our first Christmas working together.”Pre-series and pre-The Other Time.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	minus the mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea floating around in my head somewhat based around a quote from another ship. Plus, I figured I’d probably better write something other than baby fic for once.
> 
> As usual, huge thank you to Heather and Karen for remaining stellar betas-turned-ego boosters.

Even before she gets the call, Donna knows that her parents’ flight from Connecticut to New York has been canceled and if she’s being completely honest, it’s a relief. As strong as the mutual adoration runs in her family, she thanks her lucky stars and the blizzard bombarding the east coast that she won’t have to spend the holidays subjected to talk of her somewhat stunted acting career and current lack of a love life. 

She’s happy with the choice that she made to become the legal secretary of New York City’s next up and coming assistant district attorney and relationship or not, Donna has exactly no plans to settle down and start a family any time soon. Her parents don’t judge her for that but it still isn’t necessarily information that bodes well with people who wanted more for her, as supportive as they may be.

“I thought you had to leave early,” Harvey notes when he finds her at her desk at half past eight. It’s Christmas Eve and the snow outside is wreaking havoc on the city, yet Donna isn’t surprised that he’s still in the office too. “Weren’t your parents getting in around four?”

She is however surprised that he actually listened. And that he remembered.

“Canceled,” she replies, throwing a glance over her shoulder toward the window. 

Harvey grimaces, “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. What about you? I thought maybe you would be going to see your dad.”

Donna knows where Harvey grew up, where he went to school, what his high school batting average was. She knows that he has a father, infamous musician, Gordon Specter, who is insanely proud of him and a younger brother that was sick a few years prior. She knows that Harvey doesn’t talk about his mother or why they’re estranged, but she does know that Lily is alive because, _again_ , he has an insanely proud father who calls his son’s secretary once a week to “keep tabs on his boy”.

Harvey shrugs, “He took Marcus out on some sort of ice fishing trip, I guess. I told him I’d try to come up in a couple weeks.”

They fall into a sort of comfortable silence for a minute after that. Donna sits at her desk with his calendar for the next week in front of her while Harvey watches with a tentative smile on his face. Moments like this one don’t come often for them; between the flirty banter and the office professionalism they have to uphold, quiet comfort gets lost in the chaos.

“You know… it’s our first Christmas working together.”

Donna meets Harvey’s soft and mischievous gaze. 

“You want a drink?”

—

It’s close to ten and they’re halfway through a bottle of scotch (the cheap stuff from Harvey’s office, not the _good_ scotch that Cameron hoards), passing a glass back and forth while the snow continues to fall. Neither seem to mind the late hour as they enjoy each other’s company and share stories from their childhoods and facts about themselves that might interest the other. 

It’s easy. It’s comfortable. It’s _safe_.

“I was the one to tell him,” Harvey says and Donna can’t help but pick up on the unsteadiness in his voice and the way his tone drops.

She’s the first person that he’s ever told the full story to— what went wrong between his parents. Between him and his mother. He knows that it isn’t because he’s drunk and it has nothing to do with him feeling particularly vulnerable during the holidays. It has everything to do with who Donna Paulsen is. She has a way of making him feel like nothing could ever hurt him and maybe it’s the alcohol in his system but Harvey’s starting to think that she’s the only thing that ever truly could. 

Donna smiles sadly and places a hand on one of his, the hand that isn’t holding their glass of scotch, “I’m sorry.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your parents…?”

It takes her less time than he did to pour over the events of her childhood and touch up on whatever traumas she experienced. At first, Donna contemplates writing her teenage years off with some sort of “typical adolescence” statement but Harvey’s hand remains with hers, absentmindedly playing with her fingers as they share their drink and she just can’t help that she tells him everything too. Her dad lost their money when she was a kid, she lost a lot, she went through a lot, and never once does Harvey make her feel like one of their experiences outweighs the other. 

—

Christmas Eve is nearly on the other side of midnight by the time the fifth— or maybe the sixth— glass is empty. 

“So you’re happy that your parents got snowed in because you don’t want them to ask why you aren’t married with a baby yet?” Harvey laughs with a raised eyebrow.

“You try being the daughter of people who can’t wait to spoil their grandkids and then get back to me.”

“Yeah, but you have an older sister.”

“And she has sworn off parenthood, which is probably best for all of us.”

Donna notices the way Harvey contemplates this for a moment, studying her features almost too closely.

“You want that.” It’s not a question.

“Maybe. Someday, if I find the right person.”

It’s almost a little soul crushing that that— _if I find the right person_ — removes him from the equation, Harvey thinks. It’s _definitely_ the alcohol. 

They fall back into that comforting silence from earlier in the evening, this time unable to peel their eyes from each other.

Donna has only been working for Harvey for a few months now, but she feels like she’s known him for years. She feels like she _will_ know him for years.

Harvey realizes that he can’t picture any future without her in it, somewhere. He doesn’t know where.

_It’s the alcohol._

And then it happens, all too quickly and too impossibly slow. 

He leans in first, senses taking over before his fingers brush against her jawline, her cheek and she can’t help the way that her gaze averts from his eyes to his lips.

They meet in the middle and it’s slow; lips on each other’s, learning and memorizing and the kiss is languid and intense but soft, the taste of scotch and each other threatening to push the both of them into sensory overload.

_It seems to last forever_.

Soft and slow yet wanting— no, _needing_ and Donna’s hands find the back of Harvey’s head, fingers grazing his short hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

_But not long enough_.

“I’ve been wondering what that would be like,” Harvey whispers when they break apart, his lips just barely brushing hers as he speaks.

“What?” 

“What it would feel like to kiss you.”

She thinks she didn’t hear him correctly at first but his eyes find hers for a split second once they pull away and Donna _knows_.

She doesn’t exactly know what she knows, but she knows that Harvey has thought about kissing her. 

_Harvey_ has thought about kissing _her_.

She’s thought about it too.

It’s a standstill and a freefall all at once and Donna’s head is spinning but maybe it’s just the liquor to water ratio coursing through her system. Either way, he seems to have effortlessly recovered from their slip up and his admission while she’s left overwhelmed and frustrated and she can’t. She just can’t do this.

They broke a rule that he doesn’t even know that she made but it’s still… repairable. It’s in two pieces instead of one because a kiss— and it was _just_ a kiss— can’t shatter it, can it? Donna convinces herself that no, it can’t but anything further will and she needs to leave, she needs to forget the feeling of his lips against hers and the taste of cheap scotch on his tongue because they absolutely cannot cross the line that she drew the second he said her name in a crowded bar the night that she asked to move to his desk.

“I should go,” Donna says too quietly in a tone that’s half robotic, half terrified, “Before the snow gets any worse and I can’t get a cab.”

Harvey studies her again, a look that for once she can’t read on his face while his tongue traces the inside of his bottom lip as if it’s memorizing the taste that lingers there— Donna and scotch from the liquor store two blocks away. He nods, “Okay.”

It isn’t until after she’s gathered her things and Harvey has moved into his office that he speaks again, stopping her in her tracks while she’s headed for the exit.

“Merry Christmas, Donna.”

Donna glances over at the clock on the wall, noting that it’s five minutes after midnight. 

“Merry Christmas, Harvey.”

—

They wake up in different apartments with matching hangovers on Christmas morning, the only remnants of the night before the stories that they trusted each other with.

Donna doesn’t remember the kiss, nor does she remember the confession.

Harvey doesn’t remember either, but the wonder is replaced with the phantom feeling of her mouth on his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and criticism are always welcome. 
> 
> Find me @donnaandharvey on twitter.


End file.
